


A Play in Silence

by ThreeSidedOrchid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-27
Updated: 2011-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-24 02:16:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeSidedOrchid/pseuds/ThreeSidedOrchid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's not arguing like he usually does, and Severus doesn't know his lines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Play in Silence

For all their raging, the crash of things thrown and words spit like acid, there is a certain predictability to their arguments. At some point Harry will break, crumpling to the ground exhausted from their hysteria.

Except Harry hasn’t yelled. In the silence of their rooms, Severus feels as if he contains all sound, every unspoken word transmuted into his own churning anger. He wants Harry to scream, to slam his fists against the table and set the breakfast dishes rattling.

“You hurt me.”

He barely hears the words over the uproar of his own thoughts. Harry is watching him from across the table. Severus’ hands clench around the silverware, resisting the desire to sweep his plate to the floor like some melodramatic actor in his first play. Setting his knife and fork down in silent precision quells the urge slightly.

Standing, Severus goes to the door. He pauses at the threshold, one hand on the frame. I’ll be in my lab, he intends to say, a final line before his exit.

Harry is getting up from the table when Severus turns, only just catching sight of his expression. Reflexively, his hand tightens against the doorframe, flesh molding over unyielding wood. He has seen that expression before, when Harry learned he would not fly a broom again.

He could dash across the room, shoving table and chairs out of the way, but instead moves slowly, cautiously, to stand behind Harry at the sink. Reaching out, he touches Harry’s arm to stop him washing. Harry’s back stiffens, though he doesn’t pull away. Severus slides his hand down to curl over Harry’s.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, face pressed to the smooth curve of Harry’s neck and shoulder.

He says it again, and again, holding on until Harry’s body relaxes against his own.


End file.
